Once Unseen
by Edaigoa
Summary: Thrice told, their story has been, yet questions are left unanswered, and fates are still unclear. Glimpse a forgotten past, forge an uncertain future, and what was once unseen shall now be known… and their world is far deeper than once believed...
1. Prologue: For the Good of the Many

Disclaimer: The Jak and Daxter games, franchise, etc, belongs to those wonderful, freakishly talented people at Naughty Dog. I ney own the characters, world, items, plot or storyline – I'm just borrowing them for my imagination's pleasure. XD No money involved…

I only 'own' any original characters/creatures/creations that will pop up, and the basic plot line for this odd, yet beloved brain-child of mine.

Rating: PG-13, for violence, gore, and language. Rating may to go up later.

Spoilers: This bit of fanfiction will deal with ALL three games and their storylines/revelations/and freakish plot holes. At this point, the only large spoilers are for the second game; mild, weak ones for the third. Once a certain point is reached, there WILL be major spoilers, but that's not for a long while yet. (Does the second game even still COUNT as spoiler material? XP)

Plot: This fic will deal with many untouched issues from the games, starting off in the past before Jak and Daxter have even met, (after my insane, oddball, seemingly random prologue, anyway,) and will go on from there, expectantly evolving into a long-spanning storyline that does exactly what the title implies: go into the details of the plot line that have been left unseen...and hopefully beyond that. The time-travel junk, the duo's parents, how they met, the time before/between games, and more. (And I hope I'm not being overtly ambitious with that…XP) Anyway, fate/destiny will play big roles (the abstract concepts, not some stupidly-named OCs,) so beware possibly corny fate-lines and foreshadowing. Some original characters WILL spring up from the earth, and will play necessary roles in forming J&D into the people that we all know and love. After all, Jak and Daxter have parents too, and I can't wait to throw them in there! X3

Reviews: Will be VERY much appreciated, and will help me, (a long-chapter-writing, detail-oriented, procrastinating FREAK,) spew out the next chapters more quickly if you do. Constructive criticism is insanely helpful, words of enjoyment/encouragement rule and shall fuel the fic-urge fire, and pointless flames shall bring me laughter... So read and REVIEW, pleaaase! XD

Authors Notes/fair warnings to readers: Okay. If you're here reading this, then that means my trippy story summary managed to lure someone in – Yay for me! XD

This story is something I've been mentally working on/angsting over for a good while now, and is something that I hope others will find enjoyable and fitting for the J&D storyline/universe. It will be as canon as I can manage, but will have one major theme running throughout that needs to be considered – _**there is ALWAYS more to a story, and the characters in it, than meets the eye. People have layers **(yes, like onions,) **and circumstances are not always just coincidence; there is a lot going on in the back-story that you may have never even considered. **_So be open minded, m'kay? XD

And a fair warning for people searching for/hating on specific pairings: At this point, the only pairings will be between OCs, with OCs. "Normal" pairings will appear WAY later (Jak/Keira, Daxter/Tess, Torn/Ashelin,) including the ones from J3 (shudder), but they are unlikely to stay that way. Should this story EVER reach a suitable point (so far down the road I can't accurately place it yet, with only vague hints lighting the way,) this WILL be a Jak/Daxter pairing fic. Yes. Shounen Ai, boy/boy love, yaoi, slash, WHATEVER. However, the PLOT comes first. Surprised? Me too. (Though I honestly can't WAIT to get there myself…XD And since some people seem to still be confused by stories calming to be Jak/Dax fics, I do mean Jak/HUMAN!Daxter, thank you very much.)

Final comments: sigh I am not too fond of this chapter. My own style seems skewed, and I feel odd about the ending. Too vague? Too direct? Too corny? (shrug) Oh well, first posting jitters, I suppose. X3 Anyway, hopefully this won't confuse people too bad. Time twisting paradoxes and vague political agendas can do a number on your head. So just sit down, join the insane ride, and with a bit of luck, enjoy!

(And a very Special thanks to Demyrie, who continually helps to perpetuate the J&D obsession in my head, is my beloved twin-freak, and beta'd some of my chapters…but just not this one. XD Love ya! ;3)

Definitions for chapter: coup d'état – to overthrow; a hostile takeover; rebellion.

---------------

Prologue - For the Good of the Many...

"_When it turns out that the past is shaped by what happens in the future, things are bound to be more than a little paradoxically confusing."  
__-Samos the Sage_

"_Fate is NOT absolute – there are a thousand possibilities, a thousand unique journeys, a thousand different outcomes awaiting you in your fate. It is up to you, and the choices you will make, to decide the future. Only once you have made your choice – or refuse to make one at all – will your destiny be set in stone. After that…you had just best hope you've made the right choice."  
__-Onin the Soothsayer, as translated by Pecker_

--Haven City – less than four years before Jak and Daxter's arrival through the rift gate…

It was late evening. The sun was barely setting on a dark and dreary day in Haven city, a place well known for the irony of its name – for this place was hardly a haven to anyone. The city, once a proud beacon in the fight against the Metal Heads threatening the world, had long since been lost to corruption and greed; and the "haven" was now a veritable prison for its citizens, the less fortunate of whom had to struggle to survive amongst the deprivation and squalor. The putrid looking clouds over the sprawling metropolis were darker than usual on this night, foretelling rain, most likely acidic and poisonous, only adding to the buildup of toxins in the area. The sounds of zoomers and the general commotion of the city, a constant, never ending buzz, was warming up for the dangerous night life within the walls; but in one sector, shady illegal street dealers, muggings, murders, and police brutality would be the least of the citizens worries.

In Old City, the sector of Haven believed to be inhabited longer than any other, events were about to occur that would change the future of the rest of the city, and that of its residents. The area was old, and in ill repair, looking every bit and more its centuries of usage; it was also flooded, water at the bases of all the tall, rickety buildings, due to the fact that it was built on the edge and IN the ocean itself. Old City was also home to the so-called "Sacred Site" - and it would be the location of the first breech of the wall in known history.

The ancient barrier wall, in place since the times of Mar himself, surrounded the entire city protectively, keeping out any who would threaten the lives inside its boundaries – and the great energy sources also contained safely within.

Yet after weeks of systematic attacks on Haven's eco supplies, and discrete power-tampering, that section of the wall had been weakened enough for a fatal blow to be made by the city's most dangerous enemies. On that day, with a violent, shuddering explosion, a gapping wound was suddenly ripped into the wall, rubble and debris flying everywhere. The injured and frightened citizens nearby barely had the chance to pick themselves off the ground, before the Metal Heads began swarming into the area.

A red alert blared throughout the city, and the Krimzon Guard quickly responded, attempting to drive off the attacking creatures; but there were far too many, and the guard was quickly pushed back. The Baron, present at the battle himself, was forced to order a withdrawal and had the sector closed off, creating a new barrier by sealing a series of heavy doors, preventing the Metal Heads from spreading to the rest of the city; but also leaving those trapped in the "dead zone" to die...

The Metal Heads quickly spread through the area without resistance, butchering anyone they found; but they did not linger to feed as they might have, pressing onwards into the sector. They were there for a reason, sensing a powerful energy source reeking of delicious eco, and were quickly trying to hunt it out - they had their orders to find that source of power. They were heading straight for the sacred site, and unknowingly, the powerful life seed hidden within it.

Yet, in the midst of all the chaos, somehow, inexplicably, there Onin stood, a far cry away from her tent in the bazaar, calm as can be; Pecker at her side. The said moncaw paced nervously at her feet, glancing around and twitching as shouts and screams of the trapped citizens could be heard around them. In the dim lighting of dusk, the yellow glow of Metal Head skull gems could be seen as the bloodthirsty monsters raced about, attacking anyone in sight. It was sheer stupidity to be standing out in the open like they were, buildings to their backs, and open, Hora-Quan infested area straight ahead....

Yet they both knew they were there for a reason.

While Onin had explained most of what was needed to him, that their actions today were vital to the future... it didn't mean that Pecker had to like it.

"Well? Is it time yet? I hope you know what you're doing, dragging us out here right before a metal head attack.... Are you _really_ sure about this?" Pecker asked gruffly, his brightly colored feathers ruffling in annoyance and fear. Onin rolled her sightless eyes at him, replying with a tranquil voice roughened and weakened by age, yet firm in her resolve.

"It won't be long now. This is going to happen when it is meant to, and not a moment before," she sighed heavily, shaking a finger. "We must play our parts - you know this. The flow of Time must be set on its course." The moncaw let out an annoyed squawk.

"Yes, yes, I DO know that, you know. But I still think it's too risky..." He muttered, his accent flaring. Onin just shrugged in response; she knew what was going to happen, and how they would affect fate. They were on a mission, and she had Seen what they had to do. It would be dangerous, but worth it, should they succeed.

The elderly soothsayer was grateful for her gift of the Sight, given to her by fate at birth; the cost of such a rare gift was high, however – like an exchange with destiny itself. Her ability to see the real world had gradually faded, even as her mental view of the future – and the past – came more into focus, the gift advancing rapidly. She did not regret loosing her sense of sight, considering it a more than fair trade, for what she had to do was infinitely more important - she was about to put several events into motion which would bring about the salvation of more than just Haven City. Her intervention today would eventually lead to, among other things, the downfall of the tyrannical Baron Praxis, (who had seized power in a violent coup d'état from the true ruler several years before,) the death of the powerful Metal Head leader, and even the deliverance of their planet from its ancient enemies...

The drawback was the fact that the Seer also knew that lives would be forever altered with her actions. Some more strongly and painfully than others... Innocence would be lost, humanity would be ripped away by force, and intense, deep hatred would be born, breeding war, violence, and death; people would die directly because of what she was about to do... And all of it would sadly be necessary.

But it wouldn't be easy - it would take that knowledge of the future, and some clever manipulation on her part, just to get it all on that path. And the beginning of that fated path was rapidly approaching...in the form of several Metal Heads rushing towards them, just as the expected rain began to fall.

"Uh, Onin... I think we've been noticed!" Pecker squawked frantically, flapping up into Onin's ritualistic headwear as a small group of Metal Heads raced over, snarling and drooling. A large, crab-legged spyder gunner approached, flanked by several others of smaller mixed varieties. The larger one, which appeared to be in charge and mildly intelligent, stared at the seemingly frail old woman, yellow eyes widening slightly, before snarling out some unidentifiable instructions to the others; Onin and Pecker were quickly surrounded, the glowing beasts pacing and lunging towards them, only to pull back at the last moment. They seemed to enjoy it, though Onin made little outwards response that she could even hear their grating snarls.

Pecker peered over the edge of the hat he was hiding in, feathers trembling, while Onin merely stood, waiting, mentally preparing herself for what was about to happen; she would need to make with some rapid acting skills if she was to succeed. Suddenly, the sound of crashes and a deep, intense rumbling filled the air, echoing through the ground to where the pair stood, vibrating up through their bones, even as a loud clicking sound was heard coming in their direction. A large, dark shape appeared, the source of the echoes, simply knocking parts of the tightly packed buildings out of its way. The moncaw gave a faint gasp at the sight, ducking back down into the hat.

The huge, monstrous form of the Metal Head leader stepped out from the shadows cast by the fading sunlight; his long, crab-like legs clanked with each step, crunching the stone underneath the tips, while his comically small wings flapped occasionally, before being tucked into his body. The smaller Metal Heads backed out of his way respectfully as their leader approached the soothsayer, peering at the pair closely. Onin glared back blindly.

"Well, well... What a fortuitous turn of events... I expected to find something else… not the Soothsayer - but I've heard rumors of you." Metal Kor growled out in a booming, yet grating voice – he could sense the strange eco energy emanating from her body. Onin merely blinked slowly, lifting a thin brow in ill-humor.

"Yes, I know. You forced all the information you could from anyone your... _pets_ found outside the city. Before you had them killed." The Seer stated matter-of-factly.

The leader suddenly snatched up the old woman in his giant clawed fist, holding her in a painfully tight grip. Pecker was knocked from Onin's head as his perch fell, tumbling head over heels towards the ground, as the hat landed on the cracked walkway with a hollow clang.

"I see you already know much about my _interrogation_ tactics. And you probably know more than you're letting on. I'll consider this a bonus find, for you should prove to be very… _useful_ to me," he growled. "I've heard, quite loudly and insistently in fact, that there is some old hag in Haven with the ancient ability of the Sight." Kor's face spilt into a wicked grin, fangs and rain-damped hide gleaming in the muted light. "You're going to help me find what I'm looking for..." Pecker, who had finally regained his balance, fluttered up to the monsters eye level, squawking indignantly.

"What is this pest?!" Kor snarled, his rancid breath alone blowing Pecker back towards the ground once more, before turning his attention back to the woman in his claws. "Now tell me, you feeble little mortal, WHERE IS THE PRECURSOR STONE?! I can sense it here, in your puny little 'city' - tell me its location, Seer!" He roared in her face; spit flying as he gave her a rough shake. "I know of your powers - tell me before you become just another blood stain on my claws!"

"Tell ME, leader of the Hora-Quan, why should I say anything that will help YOU?" Onin demanded - she had to make the monster think she DIDN'T want to speak, or else he would see right through her manipulations. Pecker, meanwhile, was fluttering around, panicked.

"Onin cannot speak if you crush her, you empty-headed idiot'!" Pecker screeched, winging his way back up. Kor's multiple yellow eyes glowed more brightly, his grip on Onin tightening in anger, pushing her weak bones near their limit; she bit down on her lip, fighting the urge to cry out.

"I should crush you _both_!" the giant metal head roared. Pecker gulped, silently cursing his big mouth as the huge creature refocused on him. "However... I think you will be more useful to me alive. The Seer, at least..." Kor raised a horned brow, his jaws curling into an eerie sneer. The moncaw let out a quite squeak, quickly darting out of the leader's reach.

"I know it is in this sector…I sense a great energy here. My children have already taken this area, and I WILL find it, even if I have to tear this place apart, stone by stone, person by _person_." He grinned maliciously at Onin shudder. "However, I want this search over with as soon as possible. So if you wish to spare your fellow mortals such a _bloody_ end, I suggest you help me find it more quickly." Kor unexpectedly reached down, but not towards the frightened moncaw. He reached down to his hideous children, who were dragging in an unconscious form through the muddy puddles; some poor, random member of Haven's populous.

"I think THIS will be persuasion enough, Soothsayer...." Onin clenched her eyes shut, nodding in agreement, silently cursing herself - she knew, she KNEW what would happen to that poor person after this was done... Her mind was awash with images, names, and blood... she was snapped out of her morbid thoughts as she felt herself being moved, even as Kor spoke again.

"... And don't think I won't know if you try to lie to me," he growled, before setting the Soothsayer down less than gently. Onin settled herself, an annoyed look crossing her face as she rubbed her sore limbs, and picked up her surprisingly undamaged hat and placing it on her head, before settling into lotus position. Pecker flapped down as well, landing in the strange hat as his mistress clapped her hands together once, the blue energy shimmering, flowing out and spreading. Kor held the nameless elf in his other claw tightly, even as the sky seemed to open further, the sprinkling of rain becoming heavier, thicker; distant thunder echoed throughout the area.

"Remember. I do not See ALL. However…," Onin quickly added at the leader's dangerous growl, accompanied by a tightening of grip on the hostage, "I have seen things that will be beneficial to you." At that, Onin began her strange hand motions, the blue eco shimmering, as she channeled her visions, dramatically displaying the dizzying thoughts and sights she saw constantly.

"What you seek has long been lost, hidden away from those who would seek it for greed and ill. Even my sight cannot pierce the veil surrounding its exact location, for it is not meant to…" She ignored Metal Kor's growl at that comment, and continued. "You know, as I do, that the Precursor Stone resides in Haven City," she paused.

"It is NOT in this sector."

"WHAT?!" The giant beast roared, legs flailing and tail lashing out, taking chunks out of buildings and even several of his own fellow metal heads, having been caught unaware of their leader's sudden anger. His grip on the hostage tightened to near bone crunching proportions in his uncaring rage – mercifully, the man did not wake. Both Onin and Pecker shuddered at the sound, and the Seer quickly fought to bring the situation back under her control.

"Calm yourself, leader of the Hora-Quan. There is no need to lose your temper. I will tell you what I know, and you may very well be pleased with what I have to say. After all, my reason for helping you is so you do NOT injure that man." Kor growled slightly at her tone, but slowly relaxed his grip on the unconscious elf and lowered his flashing tail blade.

"Speak, Soothsayer, before I TRULY lose my patience." Onin nearly gave a crooked, near-toothless grin at his threat, already knowing how this would end; knowing that he had taken the bait.

"The Precursor Stone is not in this area, so I have said. What you sense here is merely a large, sub-surface pocket of concentrated green eco energy, hardly useful to your cause," she bluffed lightly, knowing full well of the metal head's biological intolerance towards concentrated green eco – besides, she could not allow the life seed to fall into the wrong hands, for it had yet to play its part. "But… in time, I DO see you with the Precursor Stone within your grasp. It is inevitable." She said, forcing a horrified expression into her face, as though she had just seen it in her mind, and was stricken by fear of what he could do with it. The leader sneered in triumph, leaning dangerously close to the Seer.

"Tell me where it is – where will I find it?!!" He demanded, gnashing his teeth in her face. Onin narrowed her opaque eyes as she wiped a large drop of saliva from her cheek.

"You will not find it on your own. Whatever guards it has been specifically designed to stop someone like YOU from reaching it." The hand motions paused again, and Kor snarled.

"Well?! How do I GET IT?!" he shouted, slamming a clawed fist down, turning the stone under it into gravel. Onin, not the least perturbed by the mini-earthquake, resumed her graceful movements.

"The true heir to the throne of Haven; the child descendant of the Line of Mar is the key." The giant Hora-Quan started, his many eyes widening.

"A child?!" he roared, "…That bloodline has been missing ever since that _fool_ Praxis took over, so the rumors go... Now there is a child heir to the throne... Where is it?!" Kor roared again, pacing wildly, before closing the distance between him and the seer. Onin calmly blinked at the feel of the Metal Head's breath surrounding her.

"The boy is… beyond your grasp at this Time…" she said wearily, forcing hesitance into her voice.

"Explain, soothsayer. My patience is wearing dangerously thin." The giant leader growled, rain dripping off his leathery hide; Pecker scowled at the threat, but Onin continued.

"It is true. You will need the boy – ALIVE, and unharmed." she emphasized - the leader seemed disappointed by that.

"You need him to gain access to the Precursor Stone. You will only be able to find it with his help; and yet, the child is barely born, and is of no use to you. The child is not yet the warrior you need, and the warrior is not of this time any longer." Onin was again interrupted, however.

"Do not speak in riddles and half-truths, old hag! Tell me why I cannot reach him, before I allow my children to ease their growing hunger on your flesh!" The Moncaw gulped, ducking down in Onin's headwear, which was, incidentally, slowly filling with water. (With a shriek, he started to bail out the hat, flinging water everywhere, before knocking it off her head with another loud clang as it landed in top of him, water and feathers flying. Onin paid him no mind.)

"The child is out of your reach because he will be somehow safely hidden… in the past. Eventually he will return, in the hopes that he will be able to save Haven. The outcome of such a hope... is up to you, and the decisions you will make." Onin said stiffly, purposely leaving out bits of vital information - she did not want Kor to know of "the Kid's" double presence in Time just yet... He would figure that one out on his own, and would fatally believe it was to his advantage.

The leader snarled, not doubting his ability to destroy some "warrior" child one bit.

"For any of this to occur, however, you should make a deal with Baron Praxis - he needs to stay in power for you to achieve your goals - he will actually unwittingly help you towards them." Kor sneered wickedly in response, feeling it was above a Hora-Quan to make such a deal with a mortal, but would be easy enough to achieve should the situation arise. Onin continued, dramatizing her voice.

"If this is done, your claws will eventually spill the blood of your hated enemy, the Baron of Haven; and you..." she paused for dramatic effect, "will have the Precursor stone before you at long last..." Kor's glowing eyes widened in disbelief, but, unable to smell any deceit coming from the Seer, he roared in triumphant laughter - killing that arrogant Baron would be almost as sweet as feasting on the life force of the last remaining precursor!

Onin meanwhile, sagged in relief - her part right now was mostly completed...MOSTLY. She looked back up at the dangerously happy Metal Head, and began speaking again, gaining his attention.

"All you must do, sadly enough, is wait, and let fate take it's course, guiding you..." she did not have to feign a pained expression this time... all those people... the city… the fate of the _child_…

"I would not have told you these things if I thought that path could some way be avoided, you should know this... I am but a servant of Fate, helping what is meant To Be along its course. All I now ask is that you spare all of us for this information..." Onin said, very much aware, eyesight or not, of the slightly amused, murderous look coming over Kor's terrible face.

"However..." she started, motioning to the moncaw, calling him out from under the overturned hat, and rising to her feet, "I know that you have no intentions of letting us live..." Pecker, who was landing on her shoulder, gave a startled screech at her statement, head snapping towards her face.

"WHAAT?!?!" he squawked, "What do you mean, he's not going to let us live!? You brought us here to DIE?! RAAAAHHH!!!" Feathers flew at the moncaw's angry gestures. Kor laughed, a hideous, fang-bearing grin sliding into place – he had enjoyed this little game, but now was the time to end it.

"Clever little mortal - of course I can't let you live. After all, I can't let you give that fool Praxis any of this information. You've served your purpose..." There was a sudden, stomach turning, wet crunch from the monster's right claw as he closed his grip around the hostage, blood and gore running from his fist. Pecker made a heaving sound, flinching back to Onin's shawl-wrapped neck, while the Seer herself fought against the wave of dizziness that overcame her, feeling the life snuffed out like an insignificant ember; a line of glowing light in her own personal darkness, the symbol of an individual life in her minds eye, was put out, possibilities destroyed and gone forever...

With that, Kor quickly raised his spine tipped tail, arching it over his head, intending to crush them both. Pecker let out a faint gasp, eyes wide with horror. Onin raised a haughty brow.

"Your intentions are one thing. But what is fated to happen is different. You will not be able to kill us on this day." She said with a slight grin, making the giant beast bellow in laughter.

"You think that you will be able to escape from me and my children, do you? HAHA! If you can manage that, then your powers are greater then they seem." He bared his teeth, tail poised. "However, I won't take that chance. Die, 'Soothsayer'!" With that he roared, tail twitching to strike down.

And all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, beams of green light were shooting through the air in every direction, shooting up from between their feet, slicing through buildings and Metal Heads alike; several of the beasts dropped dead were they stood, burned or cut in two by the eco beams. Kor himself was hit in the side, roaring and thrashing in pain and anger. Even those who were hit with weak recoils hissed in pain - the Hora-Quan, who live off a combination of flesh and dark eco, could not stand the life-giving green eco in such a pure form.

The Shadow, also known as the green sage Samos, who had been coincidentally locked in the sector of the city with everyone else there, had quite accidentally taped into his dormant green eco powers, largely due to the stress levels of the attack. Most importantly, because of his proximity to the life seed, he had managed to suddenly connect with the earth through its power, causing raw green eco to shoot from the ground in rare display. Afterwards, weakened by the draining experience, even he would not be sure what had happened, and would not know for a good while.

As the metal head ranks dissolved into confusion, the very earth attacking them, Onin and Pecker quickly attempted their retreat, backing off into the relative safety of the shadows. Kor, still flailing in pain, falling against buildings and crushing them under his weight, spotted them rushing around a street corner.

"You will NOT escape me, SOOTHSAYER!" he roared, charging forwards, literally tearing up the concrete with his sharp legs, even as his minions beat a hasty withdrawal.

"ONIN! T'is is crazy! What's going on -" Pecker screamed in her ear as she ran, only to be cut off by her angry reply.

"Pecker, this is all p-part of the Plan! And we are finishing what MUST BE DONE! No m-matter the cost..." she wheezed, not up for this kind of physical excretion. They both glanced back at the approaching thundering sound - Kor was almost upon them.

"DIE!" Kor roared, lashing out with his tail; he missed only just, tearing up the ground next to them as they dodged to the side, sending rock shards flying painfully on the fleeing pair. Pecker frantically shouted directions to blind woman, keeping her from running right of the now elevated path and plunging into the water below; she started across a bridge road, made slick with rain, which connected two of the higher levels in the sector.

Kor, poised to strike again, reared back with a shrill hissing scream as a large green eco beam lashed out in front of him, nearly taking off his head; in the process the beam took out the middle of the bridge, sending rubble crumbling down into the water far below - his direct path to Onin had disappeared right before his feet. He quickly decided that _now_ would be a good time to retreat, before he himself was killed by the searing eco; but he could not resist a parting shot. Kor quickly charged his skull gem, letting out several thin beams of white-hot energy, even as he backed away.

Onin and Pecker had barely been far enough ahead of Kor to avoid being taken out with the middle of the bridge; still running, though far more haltingly, Onin continued forwards, panting, wanting as much distance between them and Kor as she could get. She knew she would need it... A tingle shot down her spine in warning, even a sizzling, hissing sound sped towards them.

Pecker, who had been flying near her head, let out a startled squawk as he was smacked out of the air by Onin's aged hand, flung to the side and landing behind a pile of rubble - just as the thin beams crashed around Onin, one slicing through the air exactly where Pecker had been a split second before. All of them missed, slamming harshly into the ground and slicing through it like butter… Except one.

Onin let out a harsh, strangled gasp at the pain suddenly lancing through her neck - a breath stealing, piercing sensation, burning into and through her throat. She fell limply, a thin stream of blood flying from her mouth and the gapping, ragged hole in her neck. Kor disappeared around a corner, heading back to the break in the shield wall.

"ONIN!!" Pecker screamed, scrambling over the rubble pile and flying over to her side. She was gripping weakly at her neck, trying to stop the flow of blood that was pouring everywhere, wheezing and gagging heavily.

"O-Onin! Oh, Precursors!" He shouted, eyes darting over the bloody wound, gagging on the scent of burnt flesh. "I'll find some green eco! Just HOLD ON!" Snatching the shawl from Onin's shoulders, he cast one more frantic glance at his mistress, and quickly winged his way up into the rain filled air, heedless of the dangerous eco beams.

"Eco, eco, ECO! There's NEVER any green eco around when you need it! Hold on Onin..." he screamed to himself, flying around erratically. After an eternity to him, he spotted a cluster of green eco floating near an indented scorch mark, where a green energy beam had obviously hit, creating the floating excess of less concentrated – and therefore no longer dangerous - eco. The moncaw flew down, and dropped the shawl over the floating cluster, entrapping it; he grabbed the four free corners in his feet, flying back to where Onin lay.

Like all eco, green eco could be trapped in boxes, piping and even cloth, (dark eco being the exception, able to burn through most materials and needing to be contained in thick metal boxes or barrels,) only absorbing and releasing it's energy when touched by living flesh; or when pushed into energy-needy equipment, like the shield walls and the power plant for the city. But while green eco was a vastly powerful and amazing life force, it could not heal everything...

"Onin, you had best be still alive, or I'm going to _kill_ you!" Pecker muttered, flying down to the soothsayer's form down below.

"ONIIIN!" he shouted again, hovering near her; she looked up at him with milky white eyes, still feebly clutching her throat, blood oozing from between her fingers, wearing a look that clearly said, 'What took you so long?' He let go of the shawl's corners, allowing the eco to fall down onto her weakened form, where it was quickly absorbed in an array of shimmering spirals. Onin let out a gasp, coughing slightly and spitting out her own blood, before hesitantly pushing herself up into a sitting position. Pecker landed at her side excitedly.

"Onin! You're alright!" He let out a heaving sigh of relief, before reassuming his falsified air of aloofness, eyes twitching. "Not that I was worried or anything..." They both smiled, though Onin's seemed slightly forced; tainted by something. Pecker, having known her for many, many years indeed, quickly noticed.

"What is it?" She shook her head sadly, blind eyes staring; finally, after many moments, replying back at him with the strange, part body signal, part telepathic, non-spoken language she had spent the last few months teaching and developing with him.

"I would think you would be able to guess, Pecker." He cocked his head, a confused look settling over his face, before his eyes moved to her throat. A slight pink scar, appearing to be weeks instead of minutes old, was present there at an odd angle on the front of her throat, showing the exit wound from the skull gem's energy beam. It was directly over her larynx - it has passed through her vocal cords, burning them to oblivion. Pecker gasped, fumbling.

"Y-y-you... No, you're healed... You can't...." He glared up accusingly at her, "Y-you KNEW! You knew this was going to happen! WHY?! Why would you do something like this! You could have saved yourself! And you saved... me!? You could have dodged, too! You loco old coot! Why...?" he screamed at her, before flopping halfway onto her lap, physically and mentally exhausted. She shook her head at him, bitter laughter visible in her eyes. She lifted his feathered head so he could see what she signed.

"Pecker. You know I have to do what I can to help save this city from the Hora-Quan. _And_ from Baron Praxis' tyranny. Yes, I knew. I knew, and yet still, here I am. I could have dodged, but then I might have been killed instantly, instead of just loosing my ability to speak. You know that the future, once altered, is uncertain, ever shifting. Besides, I consider it my retribution. The payment, if you will. I am putting many good things into action here, we know this. But..." she paused, a deep, pained look, one that can only truly ever be present on the faces of those who are burdened with the Sight, settling over her aged features.

"But...I am also causing the pain, torture and death of many, by changing the future for the good of the majority. That knowledge has weighed heavily on my mind for many moons now... If this is all I must suffer, compared to others... I will accept that. After all, this was _fated _to occur. And some things are not meant to be changed."

Pecker stared at her for several minutes, bitter disbelief twisting his face, even as a humbled, awed look took over.

"Onin. I don't know why you give a damn about this city - must be something to do with being able to see the half-way decent people suffering in that sight-warped mind of yours..." he said bitterly, gesturing with his feathered hands wildly, making Onin smile slightly with his over exuberance.

"So... I guess. If you have decided you MUST go through with this crazy, most likely suicidal plan of yours, even to the point were you are willing to give up your ability to TALK – something I would never do, mind you... I'll go along with you. I can't do other wise with good conscience." He sighed. "But if you ever, EVER do something like this again, much less without telling me, RAAAAAA! I'll feed you to a metal head while you sleep, understood?" Onin threw her head back, her nearly bare gums showing as she shook with silent laughter. Pecker, wings crossed, scowled slightly, also amazed that someone could be in such good humor after what had just happened.

"Of course, Pecker. Never again." she signed, wiping tears from her clouded eyes. "From now on, I will tell you everything I can. As long it is a burden you wish to bare..." Pecker huffed, prodding a colorful feathered finger at her face.

"Of course it is, Onin! I was wondering if you would ever start to tell me whole truth of these things, instead of keeping the worst of it to yourself. You should not have to bare such things alone..." Shaking his head at the sudden amount of disgusting CARING in his voice, (and the amused look on growing Onin's face,) he continued. "Besides, it is the least I can do for someone who just saved my life." Onin chuckled silently.

"Not to mention fills your seed bowl, gives you a save home to perch, listens to your complaints when you are molting...." Onin signed, ruffling his damp feathers affectionately. He scowled, rolling his eyes - all in good nature, of course. She heaved herself up slowly, flinging her wet shawl around her bony shoulders, before squeezing some of the water out of the bottom of her soaked dress.

"Come now, Pecker. Now that the attack has stopped, we should head out of this area and back into the city. This sector is a casualty of war." She started forwards, the moncaw landing on her head.

"By the way, Onin... Are we done with all this 'putting the future into motion' crap, yet?" he asked irritably. Onin shook her head.

"Not nearly, Pecker. Not even close."

-----

Once the rather drenched pair reached the Old City exit wall, they found a panicked herd of survivors there, screaming and pounding on the sealed sector doors separating them from the rest of the city. The Krimzon Guard had left them for dead, and was securing the new gateway from the other side.

"Hey, Onin? How exactly are we getting out of here?" Pecker squawked over the roar of the crowd. The Seer simply nodded over her shoulder, and they backed out of the crowd just as the moncaw spotted a small group of people coming towards them, carrying someone.

It was the group of people who were the beginnings of the Underground movement, and they were carrying an exhausted, swirly eyed Samos, drained from his sudden explosion of energy, afro moss puff of hair sagging with rain water. The organization knew of the soothsayer and trusted her, for she gave them helpful information whenever she could. Samos blearily opened his eyes as the pair approached the group, the rebels making way for her respectfully.

"Onin... Are they gone? Are the people...?" Onin nodded, and Samos slumped, relieved. "I... I don't know what happened. Just suddenly, I f-felt this overwhelming energy... And then there was green eco _everywhere_..." She smiled, and signaled to Pecker, who looked surprised, having just realized WHO had saved all their lives.

"Yes, Samos, that is to be expected. Don't worry, you shall understand soon enough. All in good time. You stopped the attack, now get some rest - you look like crap." Pecker said for Onin, adding in the last part himself. Samos scowled, before suddenly noticing the crowd.

"What's going on? Why are the people still here?" One of the rebels spoke up.

"Sir, the Krimzon Guards have blocked off the archway, and won't let anyone out." Samos huffed, the life seeming to come back to him.

"Grub roots! Take me over there - we have to let them know the attack has ceased, before they seal us out permanently. I have sway with some of the guards - maybe I can talk to them." The Shadow stated, waving his wooden walking staff about. The rebels, sharing a humored glance and a shrug, carried him over quickly, as he began to shout at the crowd.

"Anyone on the other side would think you were all being slaughtered by the Metal Heads, the way you are carrying on! No wonder they won't open the gate! Let me talk to them, and for the sake of all that's green, SHUT! UP!" Samos roared, the buildings practically shaking at the sound; the crowds were actually shocked into silence, finally seeming to notice that the WEREN'T being eaten alive by metal heads, and that the monsters were gone. They slowly parted for the small group, the rebels placing the future sage next to the blockade, where he tapped on the doors rapidly with his walking staff.

"HEY! This is Samos Hagai! I know you can hear me out there! The attack has stopped - the Metal Heads are gone! Let us out while we have the chance. There are many people still alive, children even! So open this blockade, NOW!"

-----

Commander Torn paced, annoyance and confusion etched on his helmet covered features. To say he was not pleased with the sudden turn of events would be an understatement – he was utterly furious! The Krimzon Guard had been on their usual patrols around the city, when they had suddenly received the transmission that Old City was under attack, the wall having been breeched by Metal Heads. They had rushed over and engaged the brutes in combat, hoping to drive them back, and save the people who lived in that sector, (at least, that was Torn's hope, if no one else's). But the Baron had ordered a retreat after seeing the gapping hole in the outer wall; he had the back ranks of guard block off the sector gate, ordering the front linesmen, Torn included, to back out of the sector - To Hell with the remaining citizens.

Torn was, well, torn with indecision - he had been completely shocked at the Baron's sudden ruthlessness; he had never been directly in battle with the Baron himself before, and had never witnessed such careless disregard for human life in all his time in the guard. Hearing with his own, painfully tattooed ears, the single, careless order to leave SO MANY to die… That same order given by the man he had been taught to follow and obey without question for most of his life… it had been nearly too much to handle.

He had rashly pointed out to the Baron that there were still people ALIVE in there, and that they could be saved… and had been nearly attacked himself, being told that, "The good of the many, and THIS CITY comes first! Are you questioning my orders, COMMANDER!?" To which he had quickly replied a hasty "No, SIR!" Torn knew what happened to Guards who went against the Baron. They disappeared. _Fast_.

And Torn was left standing in the sudden rain storm, questioning everything he had once believed.

After the wall had been blocked off, the guards continued to remain on high alert, even as the downpour had continued, guns ready as they patrolled the blockade. Screams and roars could be heard coming from the other side, the less callous guards' flitching every time a human scream was suddenly cut off... Then, only minutes ago, green lights could be seen flying through the air over the top of the wall - the noises had increased, and the guards had tightened their grip on their guns nervously. And just as suddenly, it had stopped, and a general human roar could be heard on the other side; the guards didn't know what to make of it.

A while before, Praxis had ordered the blockade to be maintained, and had left to take care of some other business elsewhere, most likely having the barrier wall's eco parameters checked in the power station. So the unit had stayed, fighting any compassionate urges they might have had, maintaining the blockade. When it had suddenly gone quite, Torn had feared for the worst... and was shocked when he could pick out an individual voice.

_"HEY! This is Samos Hagai! I know you can hear me out there! The attack has stopped - the Metal Heads are gone! Let us out while we have the chance. There are many people still alive, children even! So open this blockade, NOW!"_

The commander shoved other guards out his way and ran over to the wall.

"What the hell?! What do you mean the attack has stopped?! How's that possible, and how in the name of Mar are you people still alive?!" Torn shouted.

_"Now is not the time for that - open this wall before we break it down - these people deserve the chance to live, so we need to get out of here before the metal heads decide it's safe to come back! Then you can block off the wall all you want!"_ the same someone could be heard yelling from the other side.

Torn, with only a moments hesitation over the possible repercussions, needed no more prompting. "Get this door open NOW! Move! Move! Move! Sergeant, get your squad up there, on the double! Lets get these people out of there, while we have the chance!" Torn yelled, his raspy voice gruffer than usual. The Krimzon Guard quickly got to work, not wanting to disobey a direct order from their commander.

In only a few minutes, the disciplined troops had the door reopened, and the refugees were pouring in, wet and panicked; Onin and the others being some of the first. Samos, now back on his feet, approached the commander.

"So, you're the one that gave the order to open the doors. We are grateful to you." Torn just scowled.

"Hrrmph. Yea, probably at the cost of my military career, if not my life... so I suggest that you people get the Hell outta here, before the Baron gets back." He growled out, blue eyes like ice as he glared at the group. Onin signaled to Pecker, who was quickly eyeing the commander in a new light.

"You should know, Torn... You have other choices. You don't have to live your life to serve the Baron. And after what you displayed today, I don't think that's what you want. You're better than all this... ah seeds, Onin! Did you have to make it so gooey-inspirational? I thought I was going to gag!" Torn spun towards the moncaw, startled.

"How the HELL do you now my name!? And just what do you mean? What choice? There IS no other choice!" Onin merely smiled, rising her brows at Samos, who took in Torn's form slowly – the Underground had had its eye on him for a while.

"Yes... Torn, is it? We could use someone like you. If you decide being under the Baron's boot isn't the life for you... we'll be in touch." Samos said, handing Torn a small piece of paper with an odd green and black symbol emblazoned on it… and a contact location scribbled on to the back - a safe way to get in contact with the fledgling Underground movement. Torn, a rare confused look gracing his face, stared at the scrap of paper, before safely tucking it away with an odd look. Samos nodded, retreating into the shadows, followed by the rebels, who had taken care to not be recognized.

A slightly lower ranking officer, with light, fiery hair visible under the edge of his helmet, stalked over angrily, wasting no time getting in Torn's face.

"What's the meaning of this, Torn!? Baron Praxis gave the order for this wall to remain SEALED. And now I get back from patrol to find that YOU ordered it open?! For what, to save these worthless slummers?" He waved his hand around towards the refugees, still filing in; he suddenly smirked, an arrogant swagger coming into his stance.

"But, hey, if you want to get yourself hanged for treason, it's fine by me. After all, I'm in line for commander after you." Torn glared darkly, pushing his subordinate back and out of his space.

"Fuck off, Errol; I don't have time for you. Those are citizens of Haven, those who we are sworn to protect, or have you forgotten that? And it's COMMANDER, to you, Lieutenant." he growled, the aspiring racer being one of his fellow guard that managed to grate on his nerves more often than he liked. Errol, giving an insolent salute, cursing Torn under his breath, stomped off.

Suddenly, there was the sound of another commotion down the alleyway and many heads turned to see a large, muscled someone pushing their way through the crowd. Baron Praxis, with his slightly younger face intact and devoid of the future metal attachments, was back, and was obviously enraged, if his backhanding a fledgling guard out of his way and against a nearby wall was any indication.

"How in Haven did all these people get OUT!?!" he roared, advancing forward in heavy strides. Torn gapped, shocked at the Baron's sudden return.

"These doors should have remained CLOSED! Who opened them?!" Praxis demanded. The commander steeled himself.

"Baron Praxis, Sir... I gave the order." At the Baron's enraged look, Torn pressed forward, his own competitive nature taking root as he whipped off his helmet in anger, water and dreads flying. "There were still people in there! We couldn't just leave them to DIE!"

"To keep metal heads out of MY city, everyone is expendable!"

"What?! WHY?! The attack had stopped! There was an opportunity to save innocent lives, and I TOOK IT!"

"You are dangerously close to treason, soldier! This makes twice in one day - if you wish to continue questioning my authority, I will have you arrested for defiance and high treason." Torn grit his teeth, a vein standing out on his forehead, but he somehow managed to hold his tongue.

"That's better. You are herby docked a months pay, and you will face discipline once you return to base. Just be glad I don't feel the need to lose one of my better commanders, or you would be losing rank as well." The Baron sneered, dismissing Torn with a glance, before turning to the other guards. "I want this area secured, NOW! Alpha and Beta squads, I want full containment of this 'dead zone'. Retrieve any eco you find, and add it to our private stores, along with anything of value left behind. Dispose of anything that moves, human or metal head." he roared, not hearing Torn's rasping gasp at the brutal command. The guards quickly escorted the stragglers out of the alley at gun point, as a horrified commander faded into the shadows. Praxis signaled Errol over, the huge Baron dwarfing the lithe racer.

"Lieutenant Commander. I want you to lead the squad - keep them in line, and make sure to it that my orders are followed EXACTLY." Errol's face lit up in triumph.

"Yes, Baron Praxis." he said, bowing his head slightly, before swaggering off. Onin, who had been standing nearby, nodded to Pecker, who sighed and managed to look mopey. She quickly slipped her shawl up and over her head, casting her face into shadow - it was time to put the next part of her plan into action; they slowly approached the still livid Baron.

"Baron Praxis?" Pecker spoke for her, making Praxis turn towards them angrily.

"What's this? You! Get out of this sector, now, before I have you arrested!"

"When then, you Excellency, we shall comply with your wishes. We just thought you would like to know that the Metal Head leader himself was there, during the attack. That is all…" They turned to leave, but Praxis grabbed the elderly woman by the shoulders, spinning her roughly around - just like she knew he would.

"What did you say?!" He demanded, eyes wide.

"The Metal Head leader was there, directing the attack. My mistress, Onin here, thought you might like to know what we heard. After all, we wanted to do our civic duty..." Praxis narrowed his eyes.

"Oh really. YOU over heard the monster's leader. Get out of my sight - you wouldn't still be here if you had seen the Metal head's Leader. You would not have lived through it." Onin raised a brow, motioning towards Pecker, startling the Baron with the blue lights coming from her hands.

"Y-you... You're that so called 'soothsayer'..." The Baron muttered, stepping back with apprehension - he had never believed the stories before...

"Ahh, yes, she is... I am Pecker, Onin's Eyes and... Interpreter, of sorts..." the Moncaw said with a flourish, gesturing wildly with a feathered hand. "So she knows what she is talking about, I can assure you. She knows more that what she heard, even. Would you care to listen, or do you still wish to throw us in de brig?" With a scowl, Praxis nodded, leading them over to a slight overhang where they could talk out of the rain.

"Continue, Soothsayer. But be warned; I do not take lies lightly..."

"Of course not, Baron Praxis... We would not dare lie to you. After all, it is for the good of the city that we tell you what we know!" Pecker said very earnestly, in his most gracious voice - Onin had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"We know and overheard much... Most importantly, that your great enemy, the leader of the Metal Heads, entered the city in search of something. He wants the gem of Mar - the Precursor Stone."

"The Precursor Stone! HA! That's just some old myth. A legend." Praxis laughed mockingly, though a shadow of doubt was in his eyes - the legends and myths were far too ingrained into the people of Haven for them to not consider the possibility.

"Ahhhh, but the stone DOES exist." Onin shook her finger at Praxis, wearing an all knowing look. "It contains a great and powerful force that is capable of much, which their leader seeks for himself. If he were to get the stone... Mar only knows what could happen to this city..." The Baron glared at her, trying to tell if she was lying – it was a sometimes uncanny skill a person of long-time command and interrogation of others could master, and he saw no deceit in this statement… Eye's widening with possibilities, he suddenly seemed very interested in the stone - and willing to accept it as fact.

"Well, where is it, then? Do the metal heads know where it is?!"

"All that is known, is that it is somewhere in the city. Not even the leader himself knows it's exact location..." the Baron growled, slamming a fist into a nearby wall.

"Is that ALL?" Praxis demanded. Onin nodded. "I must get this power for myself... if it truly exists..." he muttered to himself, his shrewd mind already plotting.

"If you still doubt my words, I will offer proof. We have Seen that the Metal Heads are planning an attack on the drill platform on the next new moon. They plan to attack the eco tanks, causing a massive explosion that would destroy the drilling operation, and will steal the remaining eco for themselves. Once this happens, you will know the truth of my words." They both bowed their heads slightly, to cement the charade, and turned away.

As Onin and Pecker wandered off, a guard approached Praxis.

"Do you want her arrested, Sir?"

"No." the Baron said, sneering. "Let them go. We'll see what happens. Besides, she's not leaving the city - we can get her at any time… How is the containment of the dead zone progressing?" The guard, momentarily confused, quickly shook his head and replied.

"Very well, Sir. Large amounts of eco and valuables have been retrieved, but... The old city wall is believed to be beyond repair... and most of the sector is now unlivable." Praxis growled at the loss of part of _his_ city, fists clenching.

"Get my eco technician out here to assess the possibility of any continued wall function. If it cannot be salvaged..." he ground his teeth, fighting his rage, "then we'll be leaving nothing of value for those damn bastards! Tell them to seal off the hole as much as they can, and finish up as soon as possible. I'm returning to the palace." The guard nodded, scampering off into the still misting air to do the Baron's bidding.

-----

Onin slowly made her way back to the bazaar area, feeling a bitter flush of success and regret, not helped by the fact that she was soaked to the bone and rather chilled as well. Pecker, sensing her swift change in mood, tapped at her shoulder with his tail.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"What's done is done. And the future is now ever closer to the proper course. I just wish so much pain would not have to come from it all..." she sighed heavily, her age showing more than ever.

"But, Onin... So much good stuff will happen as well, more so than without the changes, you told me this. And I believe it."

Onin, about to make a thankful reply, froze suddenly; her body going stiff, as in her minds eye, images, sights, sounds, and events flashed past, emotions of every type taking hold of her in a spilt second. More than any normal person could comprehend; the experience of the Sight took hold of Onin's aged form, overwhelming her mind in a series of jumbled yet comprehensible images darting through her head. She slumped slightly, weak from the vision, holding a hand to the bridge of her nose as her clouded eyes watered.

"Onin?!" Pecker fluttered down to the wet street, worried. "What did you see?" She slowly lifted her head up, blinking as the rampant pictures faded from her mind.

"I…There is… Much is clearer to me now. I saw further into what must be done than before... And I saw some of what will happen. Fate has such a way of working itself out... There will indeed be happiness that will result from all the misery; however, the fighting and suffering must take place first, which will make peace _long_ in coming... But things will work out in the end. There will even eventually be balance between the light and the darkness… The warped path of Time will be completed and…and the fate of the time hero will be fulfilled…" She paused for a moment, suddenly chuckling silently. "And I saw bits of several things... that I did not expect to see, but it makes me pleased to know about, none the less. Things will happen that the Precursors themselves could have never anticipated… " she drifted off, hand falling limp to her side as an odd smile slowly slipped onto her face.

"Oh come on, Onin! If you're going to get all emotional on me, at LEAST don't cut off the middle of the stupid story!" He squawked. Onin laughed as well as she could, a deep smile present on her weathered features.

"Never mind. Just come with me, Pecker... We'll discuss it over a warm cup of yakow milk back home. For there is much to prepare for..."

-----

It had now been set into motion.

Onin had begun a now unstoppable chain of events leading to the future, and the effects of it stretching so far as to even reach into the past.

Torn would go AWOL on the Krimzon Guard in only a few days, and become a member of the Underground movement, quickly rising to the top of their ranks, due to his training and newfound animosity towards the Baron.

Errol would become commander of the Krimzon Guard in his place, and the brutality of the guard would increase tenfold.

In less than a month's time, the Baron would foil the Metal Head's attack on the dig, confirming Onin's prediction. He would order a search for her, to use her gifts for his own purposes, but somehow, for whatever reasons, she would not be located.

Ashelin would soon begin her silent rebellion against her father, as Torn brought her word of his cruelties, gradually becoming a reluctant informant for the Underground.

The attacks between the city and the Hora-Quan would continue mostly unchanged, until the soon overconfident Baron would stage a direct attack on the Nest - entire units of guards would be wiped out, only a few managing to escape with their lives. The Baron himself would be grievously injured, and would find himself face to face with the Metal Head leader - and a bargain would be struck.

A year before the duo's fateful arrival into future Haven, during a particularly cruel torture session and a twist of fate, Praxis would discover the strange effects dark eco could have on the elfin body, and would begin the inhuman experiments, hunting for the someone he could turn into the ultimate "Dark Warrior".

Onin would regretfully fade back into the scene, approaching Praxis with one, final, vitally important bit of information - that, as a bright light struck across the sky, the one who was 'different' would arrive, falling from the heavens with an explosion and a ring of flame; the one who could withstand the dark eco treatments would be found, confused and alone but for a 'pet', standing out like some exotic flower on the dark, grungy streets of Haven City.

At some point, Kor, accessing the giant rift ring hidden safely in his nest, would thrust most of his body through time, hunting for some boy in the past that he believed he needed to achieve his goals, causing an impromptu trip into the future…

The infamous pair would arrive in the dark future and be fatefully separated: Jak would under go the horrible experiments, gaining the powers of dark eco, his consciousness split into two, and his innocence forever lost...

Daxter would spend two years on the streets, alone, undergoing his own not so happy adventures; one passing moment, seemingly meaningless, would ensure the continued existence of someone very close to him, continuing the strange cycle of events…

A child heir to an exiled throne would be the victim of a cruel conspiracy, taken from all that was familiar, and be lost again during a doomed rescue attempt, where even his true identity would be lost to the winds…

Samos, leader of the underground, would, by chance, find a small child crying silently in a corner the slums one early morning, covered in dirt and someone else's spattered blood; wearing the seal of the house of Mar…

Kor would continue with his relentless search for the Precursor Stone, occasionally infiltrating the city in an elfin form to hunt for it, and would end up becoming involved with the Underground, using them for their connections. Then he would one day be instructed to transport a strange, nameless, mute child to a safe location...

And, then, at last, Jak and Daxter would begin their long fight for Haven, and for their own lives. The death of Praxis, the defeat of Kor, and the revelation of the child's true identity - and that child's trip back into the past would occur, insuring the future that they had just lived...

Only to be followed still by more metal heads, politics, and bloodshed, accompanied by banishment to the cruelties of the wastelands, further transformations of self, and realizations about ones connections to the past...and future. The world would be threatened by the makers of darkness themselves, only to be saved once again by the fated Heroes… Friends would eventually become more… And destinies would be fully fulfilled at long last…

But, for all this to happen, another story must first be told; the tale of the past must first be explained. For, in this tale of fate and paradox, things _always_ return to where they first started...

---------------


	2. Chapter 1: Beginnings

Disclaimer: The Jak and Daxter games, franchise, etc, belongs to those wonderful, freakishly talented people at Naughty Dog. I ney own the characters, world, items, plot or storyline – I'm just borrowing them for my imagination's pleasure. XD No money involved.

I only 'own' any original characters/creatures/creations/cultures that will pop up, and the basic plot line for this odd, yet beloved brain-child of mine.

Rating: PG-13, for violence, gore, language, and now with implied sexual situations. Rating may go up later.

Spoilers: For this chapter, none that I can think of…

Reviewer Responses: _Laughing Hyena_: AHH! (attacks with fangirlish abandon) My first ever reviewer – you made my day…uh, over a month ago…! XD; Thank you for the wonderful complements!

_Demyrie_: Aaaahahaha, DARLING! …You already know how bad I spazzed-happy over that long ass review! (snugs tightly and happily) You're such an ego-fluffer, girl! ..Buti love that. Dun stop the ego-stroking.I LIKES it,I does. XD

_C4Cypher_: Argh, thank YOU for the lovely comments! (beams joyishly) And don't worry, I have EVERY intention of continuing with this story! (obviously…as yur next chapter is HERE, my dear!)

Authors Notes: Yarrrgghh! I LIIIVE! XD NO, I didn't forget about the story, it just…took a long while to get motivated (aka: escape the procrastination,) and start writing. Whoops. But here be a new chappy for yew all!

And this chapter is HELLA weird. But this is the chapter where the story of Jak and Daxter really kicks off, (Daxter's story,at least,) so if this seems a LOT different from the prologue - good. It's supposted to. And hopefully, you all won't be put off by the sheer amount of technical-ish culturalinformation I shove into this chapter – just trying to make the land I'm adding on to feel more real, people. (Blame my Anthropology/Human Ecology classes and my extremefondness of Jean Auel's books. XP) And if any of the info leaves you confused about the society/why the HELL I've gotcharactersacting the way they are, don't worry - I'm hopefully going to be clearing things up a bit in the next chapter. (Which WILL be coming...eventually. Hopefully sooner then this one did.) Otherwise, its filled to the brim with OCs, possible over-acting dramatics, domestic violence, and an evil, difficult character to write for. XP So I am not too fond of certain parts. ...and you all may soon come to find me as a CRUEL, EVIL BEEOTCH after this chapter. Heheh. The cruelty DOES serve a purpose in my storyline...but I still await your rants eagerly. X3

And, Please, read and review – even a short one will do! XD

And, _finally_, once again, a special thanks to the one and only Demyrie, who was wrangled into beta'ing this chapter for me, along with giving me extra, wonderous help for some difficult parts! (She sparred you all many typos, she did! XD) Thank you again, hon!

-.-.-

Definitions for Chapter: Goeep – a "Jak world" creature I made up to add to the biological diversity of their world; much like crocodile + dog, crocadog: Goat + sheep, Goeep. Quickie Bio: A goeep has the curved horns like a bighorn sheep, that also branch off into the straight up horns of a goat; it has the fluffy wool of a sheep, and the temper of a goat. XD

_Enjoy!_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chapter One – Beginnings

**_In a world untouched by the horrors of war and greed, nor scarred by the ravages of the Hora-Quan; a time where peace and tranquility was abundant and seemingly unending, and all the natural colors of eco were free flowing; that is the world their story started in, and now returns to. But this apparently peaceful time holds many dangerous secrets, and a world unused to strife will need someone to defend it eventually – that is how legacies are born and destinies are made… _**

_**What is meant to occur will take place, one way or another. For fate has a way of always working things out…**_

-.-.One month before young Jak and Samos' arrival into the past

The world of the past was not as devoid of elfin life as it first appeared – in fact, to one unused to the lay of the land, it would appear that the people of the time were downright endangered – if you merely visited the southeast coast of the mainland, that is. There were many other settlements scattered throughout that world _besides_ Sandover and Rock Village. To the west and the east, in both directions over the oceans stretching across the world, were whole other continents, also containing life; the closest one being slightly more advanced, technology wise, as they had further deciphered the Precursor knowledge to their advantage.

To the Northwest, scattered in and over the mountains, were other villages much like those already mentioned, lightly inhabited and small. Once you passed over the mountains, it gradually changed from grassy plains to desert, and after that the continent came to an end and fragmented off, forming jagged wasteland islands, utterly cut off from the rest of the world. Only rare, small tribal groups managed to survive in the more habitable of those desert areas.

Strewn throughout all the lands were, of course, the beautiful, enigmatic remains of the Precursors and their civilization, long lost, beyond any mortal memory or knowledge. Their unknown powers and mysteries were perhaps to be forever lost in time, yet were found to be eternally captivating to the current inhabitants of the world. And, finally, to the far South, was a desolate continent, dark and dangerous, where no person could hope to survive – the home and source of the metal head scourge that had warred with the Precursors themselves, hunting them to near extinction on the planet, and would virtually overrun the future…

But, to the east, before one reached the other land masses, there was a small string of islands very much alone in the vast ocean. Most likely created by volcanic activity ages ago, shaped by nature into a rough semi-circular formation, these islands were also inhabited by a number of people. The islanders were made up mostly of fisherman and other related crafts people, surviving at the mercy of the sea.

The people there were seemingly very cut off from the rest of the world – they didn't even have a warp gate on any of their numerous isles - but they did have contact with other places. They occasionally needed to trade with the mainland for the things they could not get on their own, Rock Village being one of the most frequented and closest at only three days' sail away. They exchanged some of their catch and sometimes even Precursor artifacts their nets pulled up from the bottom of the sea with the mainlanders, for crops and fruit that did not grow on their islands, as well as man-made products and additional wood for their boats; the islanders also raised small herds of yakow and goeep, giving the people the ability to survive and even thrive on their seemingly inhospitable specks of rock in the midst of the vast oceans.

It was a very different life style than the one lived in Sandover, or even in Rock Village – instead of life being slow, calm, and comparatively easy, the lives lived on those islands was often times tough, dangerous, and sometimes very short; living and depending on the ocean, which could be temperamental at best, was not a easy way of life. Violent seas and rough winds, along with lurker sharks and other unknown, deep-sea beasts were a constant threat; and on any given day, the fish could become scarce and the nets would remain empty…

The people there knew this, and lived the best they could in spite of all the trials they faced – and while they were by no means uncaring, heartless people, most had became tougher to live in such a place, much like wastelanders of the sea. They became less tolerant of faults and weaknesses – because there, that would cost the lives of the strong to care for the weak – to fix their mistakes.

There, life was only kept by those who _were_ strong, and could outlast others during the rough times, enduring the fury of the sea when it was at its worst; you had to be worthy to survive. The weak just…died off quickly, unable to stay alive. It was just the way of life there – a fact of nature, if you will.

That is where Daxter was born.

-.-.-.-.-

-Fisherman's Rock (located three days sailing east-northeast from Rock Village;) part of the Crescent Island Chain

One of those many islands in particular was called Fisherman's Rock; it was pretty much like all the other islands in the area, not very spectacular – the people there fished, scaled and cleaned their catches, herded their animals, did their crafts well. The islanders were much like the people on the mainland: temperaments apparently only slightly hardened by the harsher life they lived; same elongated, pointed ears; same multicolored hair types (though they did tend to lean towards the red end of the color spectrum;) there was no real reason to distinguish this one isle from the mess of islands out there in the waters off the eastern seaboard.

But _this_ is the particular place where the legacy actually begins.

It was the end of an unusually windy day. The sun was setting, but the waves were still up, and there were still a few of the smaller boats out; skiffs mostly. Some of the younger, more rowdy boat-men were using the additional winds to race around the islands, vaulting off the wave crests; attempting to out do one another by cutting it closer and closer to the jagged rocks that framed half of the island like a barrier – and showing off their skills by dodging at the last second.

Most everyone else was finishing up the days work and heading the short distance home to their humble island abodes, set on the edge of the high cliffs and brightly lit from within with hearth fires. The children, the future life of the village, ran about, caught up in their games of imaginary adventure; anywhere from captainingone of the island's largeships caught in a raging storm, to slaying a great lurker-sea beast and saving the day. Typical stuff, for these island children. They ran about in herds, almost, laughing and squealing and screaming, bare-footed and grubby-fingered as they traveled the island in their games. Mothers kept a watchful eye on their broods, occasionally jumping in and wresting a fighting pair apart by the ears when games became too serious.

One slender woman in particular stepped from her hut, bright green eyes glancing about quickly, searching for something amongst the grassy fields and large boulders that made up the majority of the island landscape. Her red brows narrowed in exasperation when the woman did not see what she was looking for.

"Daaaaaxterrr! Daxter, time to come inside!" The young mother shouted out into the dusky sky, calling for her son. The still harsh winds pulled at her long, gold to red, two-toned hair, and she irritably tugged it out of her eyes, still looking out for the child's arrival. She was about to call again when the sound of small, scampering feet reached her tapered female ears, and a smile lit up her face, erasing any signs of annoyance from her eyes.

"Daxter. Hurry up and come inside and…and just WHAT are you covered in?" She exclaimed when her only child came into sight. And there Daxter was: young, not even five years old, with his infamous fiery hair sticking up and flopping all over the place, not yet held in place with a cap or goggles. His wide, childishly innocent blue eyes were alight with laughter as he toddled up to the house, covered with splattered brown…something.

"Daxter! That had best not be yakow dung, because if it is, so the Precursors help me, I'll…" she said angrily, shaking a ladle at him, though with little feeling, as she was struggling against laughter at her scrawny son's appearance, a delicate hand clasped over her mouth. Daxter, looking down at himself, flashed a wide grin, showing off his already present overbite, as he tugged a hand through his hair sheepishly, breaking into giggles.

"Naw, mama, it ain't yakow poo!" Daxter said with the utmost confidence (though he DID take a cautionary sniff or two at the front of his shirt,) as he attempted to wipe some of the stuff of his clothes and ended up flinging it up against the side of the house.

"It's jus' mud. Me an' the others were runnin' around, playin' tag and I…um, kinda tripped and fell into a mud puddle…" He said haltingly, looking up at her with wide eyes, seemingly innocent for all the world – eyes silently pleading that she would buy the story.

She didn't, but she wouldn't say anything. His mother could see the slight path cut through the mud covering his face, made from what could only have been tears cleaning clear lines down his rounded cheeks. She bit her lip – Daxter had probably been pushed into the mud, _again_. Her eyes narrowed as she felt a wave of pity and indignant rage for her son. Daxter was constantly getting picked on - he was small, too small for his age; lightly built and slender, he took after her more than he should have, almost girly and sickly in appearance. Smaller than children even younger than him, Daxter was the village runt, and everyone seemed to find ways to let him know it.

"Oh, Daxter…" she whispered, lightly dropping to one knee and gently wiping the mud from his face. He fidgeted at first, not wanting to be babied; but he quickly stopped and, with a stifled, sob-tainted sigh, tolerated his mother's affections.

It used to be that he had run to her every time something had happened to him – which, sadly, happened all too often – he would dash through the doorway, howling at the top of his little lungs and bawling his eyes out, attaching himself to his mother's legs as he chokingly spit out the story to her. But the teasing and taunting had continued, and, with the addition of 'cry-baby' and 'momma's boy' into the regular insults, the tiny redhead had stopped running to her, and had suddenly begun to start fighting back, the only way he could – with his _own_ insults. Having spent all his young life on an island with crusty old sailors and the occasional drunkard, the boy had developed a surprising gift for, well…_creative_ insults. Of course, that only managed to anger the other kids even more, (if they managed to grasp what the witty little boy had actually said to them,) but at least Daxter had started getting the last word in _before_ he had to run.

With a sad smile, she finished clearing away most of the mud, and, holding his little face in the palms of her hands, planted a kiss on the tip of his tiny nose.

"Aww, mama…" he pouted, rubbing at his nose with the back of his arm, which just smeared dirt all over it again. His mother chuckled lightly and shook her head.

"Come on now, Daxter. Let's get you inside and all cleaned up. You look like a hiphog covered in all that muck." Daxter giggled, and with a broad grin, pulled a face and let out a little hiphog snort, making them both break into laughter.

"Oh no, my baby's gone and turned into a hiphog! What _am_ I ever gonna do?" She said playfully, even adding in a slight 'eep' of terror before scooping him up into her arms, not caring about the mud that got all over her own clothes at the motion. "I wonder…If I wash off all this dirt, do you think this little hiphog will change back into my son, hmm?" She laughed, suddenly digging her fingers into his sides, making him squeal with laughter. The two went into the house, still giggling, where he would continue his playful little act until she managed to toss his squirming, diminutive body into the wash basin, only shaking her head fondly when he splashed water over half the house.

It was an unconditional love, a sheer bond between mother and child – they were all the other had in the world. Daxter needed his mother, had no way in the world to live without her; he got all the food, warmth, and the desperately needed love and affection from her – at that point, she was the most important thing in his life, and he in hers. She needed her son around to stay strong - he was her motivation, her protectorate, her only true joy in life. And, ironically, he was the physical manifestation of all her sorrow.

It was just the two of them there, in that house; the two where currently on their own, and had been so for several months - and they were happy that way. And the sad fact was, they were better off for it. Too bad that was all about to change.

-.-.-.-.-

Daxter's mother was woken up the next morning, far earlier than she would have liked, by the sound of someone shouting and pounding on her door.

"Ulia! Ulia, you ARE up, aren't you! Come quickly!" The red haired woman just grumbled incoherently, and pulled the covers up over her head; the speaker's desperate pitch increased. "Ulia, you MUST get up - they're…they're BACK!"

Ulia shot up at those last words, covers flying and eyes wide with sudden fear. _What! It couldn't be - it had been too long… Impossible…_

She leapt out of bed and raced for the door, long, disheveled hair sticking out almost comically. She forced the heavy wooden door open, panting, glaring at the woman that stood there, who turned out to be a long time friend and neighbor.

"They're back? The _ship_ is back! Y-you're sure?" She asked breathlessly. The stocky, older woman nodded, wringing her hands together in anxiety.

"Oh, yes, dearie, I'm sure… It was spotted only a few minutes ago, sailing in over the horizon. They're just about to dock now. But I-I didn't…I couldn't tell if…" The woman broke off, casting a worried look up at the suddenly frightened young mother. With a shiver, Ulia nodded.

"I-I…T-thank you for letting me know. I'll…I'll be out there shortly." She whispered, green eyes going dull. Her friend nodded slowly.

"Yes, I understand. I'll…just go now, I'm…sorry I had to tell you this, but I wanted you to know, before. Before…" She paused at Ulia's nod, eyes shining with worry. "I just hope that things have changed…for you and your son's sake." The older woman whispered, before scurrying off with a fearful backwards glance. Ulia slowly closed the door, sagging against it with a suppressed sob. _No, no this couldn't be happening… Too much time had passed for it to be possible. Too much…_

The woman glanced up her son, her tiny little boy, thankfully still asleep; curled up next to her pillow, he was making soft snorting sounds as he dreamed, a thumb tucked into his mouth. She smiled slightly, bitterly – her little Daxter could sleep through almost anything, it seemed. She…would let him sleep, if only for a minute longer. He deserved a last few moments of peace, before it would be shattered, their lives reduced back to the near hell they had been before…

Stifling a sob, his mother heaved herself off the stone floor and slipped into automatic, quickly getting dressed: slipping on a simple yetflattering two-part outfit of common design to the women of the island, consisting of a shin-length skirt and a slender top, colored in bright yellow-gold and pastel pink hues; all accentuated with cord shoulder straps and small tassels in the women's latest fashion craze. While hardly vain about her own appearance, Ulia preferred to be well dressed and presentable before going down to the buzzing, busy commercial dock area, keeping up a good appearance. Instead, now she just felt as though she was dressing up for her own funeral.

The nervous woman made short work of brushing out her long, slightly wavy hair, made up of the same bright colors as her son's, which he had obviously inherited from her. She paused, catching sight of her own face in the mirror. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, with dark circles ringing the underside of her eyes, the light smattering of freckles across her cheeks and neck standing out in stark contrast to her pale skin, which was tight with fear and anxiety, making her look suddenly years older; even more so than what the past five years had permanently etched onto her features. Even with the shape-fitting clothes and the straightened appearance, she still managed to look how she felt – like a completely nervous wreck. Oh, then what was the _point!_ Ulia slammed a slight fist down against the table, gritting her teeth violently as she fought the urge to throw the brush at the wall, grip tightening on the wooden object with all her strength.

That's just it – there was no point. There was no point in making it look as though she hadn't just been dragged out of bed; making herself look decent enough to appear in public… Because if what her friend had said was true… if that ship had truly made it back… Looking presentable would be the _least _of her worries. No matter what she did, there was nothing she could do to stop what might occur…Ulia knew that. And she hated that simple fact with all her heart.

With a choked sob, the young woman pushed back the rage and the despair that threatened to overwhelm her entirely; roughly wiping the stubborn tears from her eyes, Ulia walked over to the bed and gently shook Daxter awake, who grumbled and whined slightly at the sudden early awakening.

"Wha? What's goin' on, mama?" He lisped sleepily, hair sticking out at messy angles, much like his mother's moments before. Ulia shook her head, propping him back up when he started to slump back down, trying to go back to sleep.

"Daxter, I need you to get up, okay? Get dressed, love. Something has happened, and mommy needs you to be ready."

"Wha?" He started, only to be quickly interrupted.

"Just get dressed, little one. I don't know yet, for sure, what has happened…" _'If **he's** back…'_ she thought, quickly shoving Daxter's red tunic on over his head. "But if something has, you need to be dressed."

'_Because I can't shield you from this, love, I can't. If it's happened, finally happened… I can't just hide you away, that would be worse, worse on us both… Oh Precursors help me, what am I going to do...!'_

Ulia quickly scooped him out of bed, helping him to get dressed; slipping him out of his sleeping clothes and into some pants, cinching a small belt around his tiny little waist and combing out his naturally spiky red hair. She stood up and looked him over, biting her lip. Gods, he was still so small. Her precious boy, so small and frail… _**he** would hate that._ She grasped Daxter's hand, squeezing slightly.

"Come on now, love, w-we're going down to the docks." She said, despising the quiver she couldn't manage to keep out of her voice. She couldn't tell Daxter yet, she simply couldn't. Ulia couldn't be sure that he wouldn't make a scene and refuse to go down altogether, digging in his heels and crying, or if he would even remember at all… the boy was only a little over four years old, after all. Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring look, Daxter's mother quickly ushered him out the door, turning and swiftly heading down to a lower level of the island, where the docks were located - to where she would find out if what she feared had come back at last.

Daxter, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on, squeezing his mother's hand tightly as they walked across the island. He had just been woken up, torn from sleep and confused, only really noticing the fear in his mother's voice and in her gaze. All his little boy brain could understand was that something bad musta' happened, to make his mother so afraid. But what was it?

They reached the docks all too quickly for Ulia's liking, but they were soon there none the less. The area was crowded, more so than usual; filled with milling, excited people, cheering the arrival of a ship thought to be long gone. _The Barracuda_ had arrived back at its home port, after nearly seven months lost at sea…

Ulia and Daxter stood at the back of the crowd, the woman searching the faces of the people coming off the boat, many of whom were rushing into the arms of wives and children that had thought them lost forever, crying tears of joy at their return… Ulia felt as though she could burst into tears as well, but it would hardly be from joy.

She continued to desperately search, eyes rapidly probing for the face she had hoped to never see again; that she had, Precursors forgive her, hoped and prayed was dead and lost to the depths of the ocean… And suddenly made out a figure standing out from amongst the rest, coming into view from the bow of the boat; tall and broad-shouldered, that unmistakable spiking blood-red and black hair; the haughty, swaggering stance. Even from the slight distance, Ulia, blood rushing from her already pale face in horror, could make out that man, the captain of the ship, now stepping down the gangplank, returned to the island very much alive.

Daxter's father was home.

-.-.-.-.-

One of the last men to disembark from the ship, Lyil stepped into the crowd gathered at the docks, a smirk growing on his face as many of the villagers cheered and clapped him on the back, welcoming him home and thanking him for leading the other sailors back safely.

They had set sail on a long-distance trading mission to thedistant continent in the east nearly seven months ago, on a trip that was only supposed to take about six weeks. The trading mission in itself had run long, due to complications during the journey there, normal sailing difficulties of torn sails and lost rigging; the men had ended up staying longer then planned in the far off country, enjoying the sights and culture and the strange technologies there. Once the trading was done and huge profits made, they had set off on the return voyage where they were caught in a horrible storm, during which several of the men were lost to the sea.

They had been thrown severely off course, and had run aground on some rocky part of the coastline of the same continent they had just departed from, the boat heavily damaged. They were many days sail south of the trading post, however, so they had found themselves in a another unfamiliar land. To make an incredibly long story (four months long, in fact,) short, the sailors had to barter and earn wages to afford the cost of the necessary repairs, seeing how the 'advanced society' would not allow them the necessary wood for the ship for free. The vessel was so heavily damaged that even just the work in itself took over a moon cycle to complete – and then there were the needed supplies for the trip home.

All that, and the traders had barely managed to retain any of the profits they had made trading with the other city – only the rarest of cloths, clothing, items and artifacts had been kept, hidden away safely in the hold of the ship. The city dwellers had been crafty, hoping to fool the 'ignorant island hicks' out of their valuable items. The captain, however, was far more devious then they could hope to be, and the ship had finally set sail from there less than two weeks ago. And now they were back, at last, only minus a good chunk of their profits and a few crew members – not a bad loss, considering…

The entire experience was enough to give even a good man a bad temper – and Lyil was not a good man to begin with.

Lyil spotted them lurking in the back of the crowd quickly, eyes narrowing at the sight. The nerve of that woman, standing there, fear and disappointment and rage plastered on her pretty little face… She had believed he was never coming back – had probably believed that she was rid of him forever. He sneered, pleased to disappoint her and her pathetic hopes. Ulia had probably grown too independent for her own good over the past few months, relishing her supposed freedom – he would be glad to break her back down again. He would teach her to think she would _ever_ be rid of him…

And then he saw the boy, small as ever, clinging to her legs in fear as though he was some sniveling little GIRL. _That_ attachment would have to be taken care of… He wouldn't have his boy, runt or not, acting like some sissy female – an embarrassment to his name… With a malicious grin on his once handsome face, Lyil stalked through the rest of the crowds surrounding the docks and made his way to the back of the horde, where his wife and son stood.

Ulia stepped back slightly when she saw him approaching, placing a hand on Daxter's shoulder and shifting him further behind her legs – something the slight boy had been about to do anyway. He was quickly remembering that man and that face; those cold, loveless blue eyes, so similar and yet so different from his own…

Lyil stopped in front of them, crossing his arms and staring down over her much shorter frame haughtily; baring his canines completely with a wide smirk when she cowered slightly, but didn't back down or look away. So - the woman had grown a bit of a backbone, eh? Heh. She was going to be so much _fun_ to break. He raised a dark eyebrow at her, smirk growing.

"Miss me?" He growled, a sadistic grin splitting his lightly bearded face when she twitched at the sound of his voice. Ulia gave a shiver, life fading from her once bright eyes as she glanced away towards the ground.

"There was nothing to miss." She muttered flatly, all emotion gone.Lyil's eyes widened in momentary surprise at her boldness, before quickly narrowing dangerously into slits, fists twitching.

"We'll see how long thattone lasts, Ulia." He hissed, before glancing down at Daxter as though he had yet to notice the boy, who let out a faint whimper and ducked his face back behind his mother's dress; his father let out a growl, anger growing and risingperilouslyclose tothe surface.

"And what in the HELL have you done to my boy, woman? Huh!" Lyil stepped forward, large frame swaggering- Daxter gave another yelp and scuffled completely behind his mother's dress folds as the other half of his 'family' turned his dark eyes upward to snarl in her face, furiously. "What, you decide being a damn runt wasn't enough, and you had to go and turn him into some kinda pansy as well? Come'ere!" He snarled, hand darting out and grabbing Daxter's wrist in a painful grip, yanking him out from his hiding spot behind his mother; the boy let out a fearful protest, yelping; eyes wide as he frantically pulled back, trying to get away.

"No! Let him _go_, Lyil!" Ulia half-shouted, grabbing at his hand and recklessly tugging, trying to pry him off Daxter's wrist. The man, face red with building rage but eyes alight with sadistic pleasure, used his free hand to pry her fingers from his wrist, grip tightening until she let out a pained protest, fearful eyes glaring up at him. Lyil had to suppress a laugh the look on their faces, settling instead for a broad grin, running his tongue along his teeth – he was going to enjoy making up for lost time.

And the thing was, very few of the villagers had ANY inkling of what happened behind closed doors at Daxter's childhood home – and those that did, like Ulia's friend, couldn't do anything about it. Lyil was too well respected and liked by the rest of his home village – he put up a good façade, impressing and fooling most. And Ulia hadn't even been born on that particular island, only moving there when she had been married to Lyil – and the people of Fisherman's Rock were loyal to their _own_. She wouldn't even be believed. …Some might even say that she had brought it on herself.

Even at that moment, they were so far away from the rest of the crowd, that to anyone looking on from that distance would probably only see what appeared to be a reunited family, possibly holding hands or something similar. NOT a twisted man hurting his wife and son. And Lyil was far too sly – he knew better than to allow this kind of thing to be noticed by others; this treatment he only reserved for those whom he could get away with abusing; generally leaving it for the privacy of indoors…

"Come on, 'dear'. Let's go home so you can greet your husband 'proper like'. After all, seven months away from home is such a looong time. I'm sure you've felt so _deprived _of my _company_." Daxter's father growled, leering into Ulia's face. She flinched away, stomach churning. With a short, husky laugh at her expression, Lyil quickly headed off towards their hut, dragging the pair behind him. Ulia could only cover her face with her free hand when she began to sob.

Daxter, who was quietly whimpering at the painful grip around his wrist, suddenly tripped over a bump in the path, hitting the ground with a pained yelp. Lyil, glancing back over his shoulder with a sneer, didn't stop; nor did he let go of Daxter's wrist. He just started to drag him behind them, amidst Daxter's cries as he struggled to stand.

"Daxter!" Ulia gasped, trying to turn and pick her son from the ground; she let out a strangled shout when her husband ruthlessly tugged her back up and to his side, shaking his head with a sneer.

"Uh-uh… If the little runt can't learn to stand on his own two feet, he doesn't deserve to be picked up from the ground when he falls!" Shock and anger suddenly clouding her face, the boy's mother quickly began to protest, shouting at the man who still hadn't stopped walking. She was quickly cut off, however, when Lyil tightened his grip on them both; yanking Daxter up from the rough ground and dangling him by the wrist amidstthe child'spanicked screaming.

"Woman. Unless you want me to get _really_ angry, I suggest you shut your mouth. NOW." He growled out in a dangerously low whisper, shaking theboy and tightening his grip on her wrist until it made a cracking sound for emphasis; at her wide eyed, fearful nod, Lyil smirked and relaxed his grip on her slightly, and let go of Daxter completely, who fell down in a bawling heap.

"That's better. And look, we're _home_." He said mockingly, voice positively dripping with sarcasm. He tugged Ulia up to the house, rolling Daxter's huddled form out of his way with his foot.

"Stay out here and keep outta my way for a while, kid. The grownups have stuff to do." Lyil hissed, wrapping an arm around the woman'supper armand tugging her to the door way.

"Ma…Mama!" Daxter whimpered, scrambling to his feet and rushing towards the door. Ulia, a look of panic on her once-young face, shook her head frantically.

"No, Daxter! Um, stay outside and play for awhile. For mommy, okay? Please, honey. J…just go..." She whispered, fighting panic. Daxter bit his lip anxiously, eyes wide with fear and tears.

"Bu'…_mama_…!" The redhead whispered, eyes darting from his mother to the man holding her and back again. Ulia shook her head again, needing him to understand and just _go…_ Lyil, however, was loosing his patience.

"I said GET, runt! So move!" He shouted, raising a fist. With a squeal of fright, Daxter flailed backwards to get away, landing on his backside. He quickly tore at the ground, lifting himself up and running off with a fearful backwards glance. Lyil snickered cruelly, lowering his hand and latching it onto Ulia's waist, who couldn't manage to suppress a shiver.

"Well, now that _that's_ taken care of…" Lyil growled suggestively, tugging his horrified and unwilling wife through the door, slamming it shut behind them.

At the sound, Daxter slowly stopped and looked back, eyes wide, heart pounding frantically in his slight chest; the young boy had no idea what to do.

There was nothing he _could_ do.

-.-.-.-.-

It didn't take long for things to go from bad to worse. Lyil wasted no time in making himself at home once more – nor did he waste any time regaining his strangle hold on the small family. People like him were all the same: domineering, obsessive, violent. Due to some strange combination of situation and personality, they managed to somehow come to the conclusion that certain people belonged to them, and could be dealt with however they saw fit. It was the kind of thing that had slowly escalated over the years: the violence creeping to more dangerous levels, the verbal abuse getting harsher; the sneers, the disrespect, the utter disregard. The rules of society did not apply with them behind closed doors, and the sick rush of control was their greatest pleasure in life. Lyil was a sick and twisted man, and there was simply no reasoning with him.

And Ulia was a helpless bystander to all that her cruel husband did - if she tried to stop him, it just increased his enjoyment of the whole affair – or it triggered his rage, which was damn near unstoppable. It was better to go along with it and try to prevent it from escalating, she reasoned, then trying to stop him - which was about as useful as walking up to a yakow bull during the breeding season and poking it in the eye. Neither was a wise move. And it didn't help their problems that the man loved to drink.

And he wasn't a happy drunk, by ANY means…

It was only a few days later, in the middle of the afternoon, and the dark haired man was still in the midst of enjoying his "triumphant return" – which included indulging in the some of the strongest forms of liquor the island brewers could manage. He'd come back to the hut early from the tavern to demand some food, catching Ulia and her son by surprise. Daxter, who had been spending the majority of his time outside lately, and therefore relatively safe from his father's temper tantrums, was playing in a corner of the main room when his father stormed inside. Wide blue eyes snapped up in shock, only to meet with a frigid matching pair staring straight at him. His drunken concentration not being the best, his focus quickly shifted far too easily from food, to the anger that built up in his chest every time he looked at his son, and the darkly pleasant surprise that he'd managed to catch the boy at home for once. A twisted grin crossed his lips as he glared down at the huddled form.

"Come 'ere, boy." the man snarled, grabbing the child's lean upper arm in a tight grip and tugging him over, even as Daxter fought the whimpers rising up in his throat. Lyil looked him up and down with a sneer, before gulping down another shot of Lurker Whiskey, which he had conveniently brought back with him from the bar. Ulia stepped out of the other room in fearful surprise, gasping at sight; Lyil tossed her a smoldering glare, jerking a muscled arm back towards to room she just exited, flinging liquor across the floor.

"Get back in there and cook me some damn food, woman!" He shouted, inadvertently tightening his grip on the child's shoulder. Biting her lip so hard she tasted copper, Ulia reluctantly slunk back into the cooking area after forcefully tearing her terrified gaze from her son. Distraction gone, Lyil focused back on child he held in his bruising grip.

"Look at you. You're pathetic." He hissed, glaring down at the flinching child. "Nothin' more then a weakling; you're a disgrace to the whole island." He paused, spitting down by Daxter's foot as though he tasted something foul. "You're such a scrawny little shit, always cringing like a whipped crocadog. Show some backbone once in a while, you runt!" Lyil snarled, giving the child a good smack between the shoulder blades, making him let out a hollow yelp as the air was knocked out of him, the force straightening him up from his huddled stance. The man let out a short, cold laugh.

"Disgusting. I can't believe you're of my blood. If you didn't look like some cheap, ugly imitation of myself, I'd have to think you mother had been whoring around on me, _eh, bitch_!" Lyil half-shouted towards the other room, giving the doorway a good glare; the room remained heartbreakingly silent. He didn't expect an answer, and only paused to bark out a harsh laugh and take another gulp of liquor straight from the bottle.

Glancing back down towards the boy trapped in his grip, his eyes suddenly hardened at the sight of tears silently falling down Daxter's rounded cheeks. Eyes that suddenly seemed to burn in his hazy, drunken rage.

"What the hell is that!" He shouted, giving the child a violent shake by the shoulders. "What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" The terrified boy didn't answer, only staring up at his father with watery eyes and trembling limbs. Rage further colored the man's vision red. "Only weaklings and girls cry! And I won't have a weakling in my household!" Lyil shouted, suddenly backhanding Daxter across the face.

Daxter couldn't even hear his own cry as he felt harshly onto the floor, senses clouded with a ringing in his ears and the taste of blood on his tongue. He lay there limply in pain and shock, the only movement coming from his shaking shoulders as he sobbed, just wanting the ache in the side of his face to fade.

"…A disgrace to think I spawned this spineless worm! Damn weakling…" Lyil continued to hiss, staring down at Daxter's sprawled out form with eyes unfocused in his drunkenness. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper that could barely be heard over the youngster's hiccoughing sobs.

"Creatures like you… they dun't last long. Not in the seas. Not on the ships. Not on thes' islands. First fish to be eaten; firs' to go." A slightly manic sneer spilt his face in two, canines bared to the light.

"Maybe… ma'be I should just…help you along a little bit." He whispered, toeing the young redhead's form over with a booted foot. Daxter let out a whimper. The grin widened, as the said boot quickly pressed down on a tiny hand, pressure slowly increasing on the young joints. Daxter's impossibly wide eyes darted between the horrifying look on the man's face to the boot over his hand, before letting out a wail as the force became painful.

"You could break…_so_ easily…" He murmured, head tilting eerily to the side, as he stepped down more, a satisfying pop echoing up to his ears; a panicked scream of pain…

"Lyil!" A sudden shout from behind, and the coolly violent man turned, alcohol making him so thankfully distractible… only to have a food platter smashed over his head, ceramic shards and yakow steak flying. The man dropped with a loud thud, nearly landing on top of the still bleeding child, who, with widely surprised eyes, scrambled up and back into a corner, clutching his battered hand and sobbing as silently as possible.

Ulia dropped the two rim pieces of the platter still clutched in her hands to the floor, her own green eyes wide with shock at her own actions. _What had she just done?_ She simply hadn't been able to stand by and listen to her child's cries any longer, but now she had endangered them both even further! Tossing a panicked glance Daxter's way, she saw him gazing at her with an awed look in his eyes. She let out a slightly hysterical laugh that sounded more like a sob.

Slowly dropping to her knees, she braced the wall for support, overwhelmed by the audacity of what she had done. Lyil would…oh, _Precursors_, he would…! She looked over at his prone form with a shiver and could tell from the shallow rising of his chest that she hadn't killed him – he was just unconscious. She couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or not.

Daxter was slowly inching his way away from the corner and over to the forms of his parents, eyeing the limp body of his father with hesitant fear and curiosity. Ulia quickly raised a hand and shook her head, warding him off.

"Daxter. J-just go." She looked up at him, green orbs dark with fear. "Go, Daxter. When he wakes up, you _cannot_ be here." The child made to protest, but his mother interrupted him. "If I can't find someway to explain this to him, he is…. He _is_ going to wake up, Daxter, and he is going to be _very_ angry. Do you understand what it will be like when that happens, baby?" Blue eyes widened in understanding – Daxter knew, and the thought absolutely terrified him. His daddy was going to be _so_ mad… The child let out a sob. Ulia bit her lip, wincing at the huge purpling splotch on the side of his face, blood dribbling down the middle from a cut cheekbone. She cupped his other cheek softly in her hand, gently running a thumb over the unmarred skin there – Gods, she had to keep him out of Lyil's path.

"Go Daxter. Don't come back until its safe." She whispered, lightly pushing him towards the door

With a trembling lip and frantic look, the young boy stumbled up and out the cracked door, racing off to the furthest end of the island, stumbling and blinded by tears.

-.-.-.-.-

Somehow, by the grace of the Precursors, Ulia was able to get out of that situation without so much a drop of blood spilled on her part. After sending Daxter away, she had quickly cleaned up all evidence of her unusual show of bravado, (including the ceramic shards and mashed potubers in Lyil's hair.) Luckily, her husband was so drunk that he hadn't even woken up, and was simply sleeping all that liquor off, so he didn't wake until the next day; and when he did, it was with a raging headache and little memory of the day before. Hiding her trembling as much as possible, she had quickly told him 'what had happened' when he had irritably questioned her about why his head hurt so damn bloody much.

He had, of course, come home so drunk that when she had called him to come and eat, had turned around too fast and gotten dizzy at the sudden movement, tilting over dangerously and crashing into one of the house's support beams head first. Lyil, hung-over and embarrassed, his stanch male-pride damaged by such an explanation, blamed her for his little misstep; she, as his wife, should have prevented such a thing, (of _course_,) – but she still managed to escape any further repercussions from the event other then a bruised cheek and a cranky male to deal with for the rest of the day.

Ulia was relived it was just that; and was able to breathe a bit easier afterwards…at least for a while.

-.-.-.-.-

After that incident, Daxter was now forced to deal with staying away from home even more then before. Of course, it was hardly the most enjoyable situation; but if he wanted to keep from getting hurt, he had to stay away from the house whenever Lyil was around – and that meant he had to stay away from his mother, the only person who truly seemed to care about him. SometimesUlia had him stay at her friend's house, but it was so _boring_ over there…and there was the slight fact that he tended to end up annoying/distracting/or breaking something that belonged to the older woman. He didn't like to play with the other kids (more like they didn't like _him_ first), and any time with his mother was quickly interrupted. But, thankfully for them, Lyil eventually went back out on the boats to get back to doing his job and fish – and though it was only for short trips, a few days at most, those were the blissful times that Ulia and her son were able to spend together.

"Daxter! I'm going to get you!" Ulia shouted as she ran after her son, caught up in an impromptu game of chase. They were currently on the far side of the island gathering firewood, where the terrain was rougher and there weren't any houses. Daxter was running about, weaving and dodging into and around the small bushes in the area, trying to hide from his mother – it wasn't exactly helpful that he was giggling and laughing the entire time.

Ulia, panting and flushed with exertion, was none the less smiling with the absolute joy of the moment. Rare moments like these were the ones that kept them going, and made life worth living. It was especially nice that they were able to forget their troubles during these times as well.

Daxter let out a shrill squeal of surprise when his mother rounded a boulder, suddenly much closer to catching him than he had thought. With another peal of laughter, he darted off in the other direction, winding his way around the massive rocks and making his way up the gradually increasing slope of the hillside. With a fond chuckle of her own, Ulia followed, allowing Daxter to outpace her, so the game wouldn't end too quickly.

Hardly anyone ever went up the cliff sides, and only then it was usually to retrieve a straying goeep or something similar – there was no useable food or growing space up there, nor any flat and steady ground to build houses on. The rocks were mildly unstable; rumor had it that the small mountain of rock used to be higher many generations ago, before part of it collapsed, the majority of it falling into the ocean and creating the dangerous rocky outcroppings that surrounded a side of the island. No one knew how old the island was – or what kind of history it had before their ancestors discovered the chain of islands many centuries ago.

As the game continued, they found themselves further up the hillside than either of them had ever been before. Ulia was seriously starting to consider calling Daxter back down, as the rocky slope was starting to get rougher and lose some of its footing.

Daxter, meanwhile, had found himself a nice nook between some rocks to hide in, giggling in excitement. His mother would never be able to find him here! Stifling his laughter as he heard her approaching, the young redhead squeezed further back into the outcropping, feeling rocks and gravel come loose in his slight grip. Blue eyes blinked slowly with confusion, as the young boy felt a jolt go through the stone at his back. With a sudden resounding crack and a massive shifting of rock, the chunks of sandstone fell back, having lost the precarious balance of gravel anchoring it, creating a slight cavern into the mountainside, pulling a dumbstruckredhead in with it.

Ulia's head snapped up at the sound of the rock slide, heart jumping to her throat at the sight of dust rising from an area slightly around the mountain. And the sound of a tiny scream of fright, gone mostly unnoticed over the crashes.

"Daxter!" His mother screamed, scrambling over the rough terrain over to the small hole in the hillside. Coughing on the dust, she quickly leaned in the gap, peering through the gloom to see if her son had been caught in the collapse.

"Daxter! Are you in there? Baby, answer me!" She shouted frantically. A weak cough answered her almost immediately.

"Mama?" A sob. "Mama! I think I fell in somethin'…" Ulia gasped in relief, tightening her precarious grip on the rocks and leaning further into the hole.

"Daxter? Where are you? Can you get up, baby?" She heard a slight shifting of gravel not too far down as the small boy stood up, followed by a stifled sniffle.

"Uh huh… I'm okay…" Daxter stood up carefully, whimpering at the pain from his skinned elbows; he shook his body, getting the gravel off his clothes and out of his hair, though his skin and clothing were still covered with a fine, tan dust from the rocks. Blinking in the settling powder, he could slowly make out the opening he had fallen through, not even six feet over his head, a blob of light in the slopping wall. He cracked a smile at the silhouette of his mother leaning down towards him, and waved.

"Hi, mama!"

Ulia had to pull herself out of the gap quickly, to avoid pitching forwards at the sheer absurdity of the situation. He was lucky not be crushed under a half ton of rock, and he just… She sighed, and leaned back in, shaking her head.

"Daxter? I think that's definitely enough playing for one day… Come over to the wall – can you climb out?" She asked, thinking their might be a slope of rubble for him to clamber up. Daxter started forward, thinking he probably could make it up, when he caught a faint glow out of the corner of his eye. Nose scrunching up in confusion, he waved an arm at his mother.

"Just a minute mama…" He muttered distractedly, as he rounded a narrow crevice and disappeared from her sight.

"Daxter? Daxter, get back here this instant!" She shouted, starting to lower herself into the gap. Faintly, she heard her child answer with a whine.

"But, maaamaaa, I FOUND somethin'!"

"I don't care if you've found the lost city of the Precursors, you get back over here right NOW!" She hissed in rare display of genuine anger, sliding the rest of the way in the small cavern, nearly cracking her head on the jutting rocks. She quickly crawled through the tunnel Daxter had found, guided by the same slight glow that had attracted the easily distracted young boy.

"Daxter, if you don't come here right now, you're going to wish your father WAS home today!" She threatened, immediately regretting the reference. Shaking her head and staying firm, she squeezed though another tight curve, and caught sight of the little, slippery, redheaded eel, sitting back on his heels, with his mouth agape, illuminated by the glow.

"Daxter, I mean it! Come here right…!" She reached out to grab him, only to see what had shocked Daxter into silence, and was reduced to gaping as well. There, half buried in the rocky mountainside, tilted nearly on its side, was a forgotten Precursor oracle, lightly glowing in the darkness.

Daxter was the first to break the silence, turning curious eyes to his mother's own awed look.

"Mama? What is it? It looks silly – it's got big bug eyes." He said, giggling slightly. His mother shot him a look, clapping her hand over his mouth.

"Hush, Daxter! It's a Precursor Idol – you shouldn't mock them!" She whispered, biting her lip in superstitious fear. With the islander's belief that the Precursors watched over them – made it possible for them to survive in their isolated homes, and controlled the tides, it was no wonder that regarding an idol in an form of disrespect was simply out of the question. The redhead made a face and twisted away from the hand.

"They still look goofy…" He muttered, scowling at odd looking statue. Ulia was torn between horror and shock at her son's naive defiance. Shaking her head, she grabbed his arm.

"Come on Daxter – we need to get out of here, anyway. This cave could collapse any minute, and I don't have anything to make an offering with…" She started to pull him away, only to be interrupted by an impossibly deep voice, which made the cavern rumble with its sound, twin redheads snapping around to fearfully stare at the source.

"_A Fated One approaches, and awakens my long slumber…" _The Oracle growled out; sightless, cavernous eyes seemingly staring at the quivering pair, and yet at nothing at all at the same time. Ulia tugged her son into her arms fearfully, her own eyes wide; the young boy gave a frightened whimper, which actually seemed to refocus the metallic statues 'gaze' and attention to him.

"_Ahh… The Companion. Darkness clouds your future, small one."_ Ulia gasped, tightening her grip on her child almost painfully, even as the cavern continued to shake with the voice.

"_You have an important role to play in fate; but you are not yet ready…"_ The Oracle paused and the cowering pair got the impression that it had seemingly looked around, taking in surroundings that were far beyond the unstable cave, before turning its blank yet piercing gaze back to the trembling child.

"_And your destiny lies far from here, child."_ It's "gaze" seemed to flicker towards Ulia and back to Daxter again; there was a rumbling sound, and a few pebbles fell from the ceiling. The Oracle quickly resumed.

"_Do not allow darkness of any form to overwhelm and envelop your true self… And do not fear the return of the glorious light, for all paths must come to an end eventually…"_ And the Oracle fell silent; the resonating glow that had increased during its short speech quickly beginning to fade. The only sounds that were left were the sounds of the pair's rapid breathing. Finally, the trembling boy lifted his head from his mother's chest where he had attempted to hide his face, and peered up and Ulia's equally stunned eyes.

"M-mama? What…?" His mother quickly interrupted and shook her head.

"No, baby. Not now. We're leaving." She whispered, physically unable to raise her voice any louder. She gulped, quickly scooping the relatively light child up into her arms and made her way back out of the small cavern. As soon as she managed to crawl out the tight crevice and into the sunlight, a deep cracking noise echoed from below. The sound of rocks breaking filled the air, and a wave of dust and gravel blew out from the exit, surrounding and engulfing the pair before settling back down again.

Ulia stared back at the once-cave in shock – they could have been _killed_...! …But they had gotten out just in time… She felt a wave of foreboding shoot through her. It was just…far too coincidental. But then again, when precursor relics were involved… The young mother frowned in consternation – she didn't want to think about this.

But as she carried Daxter home, she just had to wonder just what the oracle had meant. 'Darkness' was in his future? His 'destiny'? Oracles were believed to have a knowledge and power over the future, but she had never heard of or witnessed one speaking before. It was supposedly rare for it happen; only when it was talking of someone greatly important, like one of the great sages of eco that were rumored to live on the mainland; or when someone had a great task or destiny to fulfill… Was Daxter of an important fate? She glanced down at her son, now asleep in her arms, thumb habitually clasped in his mouth. He hardly looked like someone capable of great deeds…or of darkness. Ulia shivered as the oracle's words ran through her again. Darkness? Was her tiny, innocent son capable of _darkness_?

Ulia, of course, didn't think that was possible at all. But… She paused, a thought sending a shiver down her spine. What if Lyil had caused more damage to Daxter then she knew? What if…instead of just hurting his body, he had also tainted his mind, as well? Had he been warped by Lyil's hatred and violence?

Or was he simply more important than anyone had ever considered him to be? …Even her?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


End file.
